aging hipsters

 

Sunset Boulevard is truly one of the most depressing places in Hollywood. On any given night, the Sunset Strip is littered with aging hipsters, goggy-eyed tourists trying to blend in, naive actors and models fresh off the "hey, you're the hometown-hero/princess, why don't you move to Hollywood" boat, and of course, the standard Hollywood types with either ironic/vintage tee-shirts and woefully irrelevant trucker hats or worse, the classic (albeit ten years too late) "Swingers" style party shirts. Mix in more fake breasts than any healthy person can stomach with a splash of neon and danger, add some mystique and the heartbeat-like thumping from the innards of its dark bars and you end up with a glamorous cesspool of fakery and transparent posturing. Every minute that passes on the Sunset Strip, another dream dies with a 14 dollar Patron shot.

Other than that, the Sunset Strip can be a fun, amusement park of a night if it's visited in small doses with good friends and a healthy sense of humor. It's sort of a parody of itself, populated by people desperately trying to make it the place of their imagination...

...the place they believe it to be...

...the place of legend.

Boasting some of the most famous places in Hollywood History (including the Chateau Marmont, The Viper Room, and The World Famous Whisky-a-Go-Go), it really would be impossible for a place so iconic and self-reverential to live up to the hype. It's a place not unlike Las Vegas; fun to visit, but dangerous to linger at.

During my ten years in Los Angeles, I have visited the Sunset Strip a handful of times. In my first year here, I was convinced that Hollywood Deals® happened within the "glamorous" nightlife of Hollywood. I showed up to places like Union and SkyBar, convinced that I'd find a door into the action; a route into "Hollywood, The Machine," not just "Hollywood, The City." "Hollywood, The City," as viewed from a depressing little apartment across the street from a fire station on Sierra Bonita, was not what I had imagined. Surely "Hollywood, The Machine" would be waiting for me in a dark bar tucked underneath the billboards and street lights. After all, Hollywood is decadent and shallow, so the key to cracking it's hull surely resided within it's nerve center: The Sunset Strip. Even before trucker hats and pithy clothing slogans, The Strip provided me no such door into the action. Instead, it taunted me with its money and lip gloss. Beautiful, empty people stared past me waiting for someone important they hadn't yet met as I envied their money and clothing and ability to blend into such a hip scene without having to worry about whether the whole place was wondering if your flannel shirt was intentional or tragic.

Hollywood, at least THAT Hollywood and I would never quite find each other. Not only could I not afford to court that element, I loathed it. Everybody that dressed better than me, with better hair and better smiles and cooler shoes and deeper tans became my nemeses. I lived outside of their world and each visit to their bars and clubs made me feel more and more like an interloper and a fraud. I gave up on trying to blend in, and chose instead to find my nightlife in the dive bars with no bouncers and no neon. At the very least, I could usually find parking at the dive bars, and the dress code was simply "clothes."

Eventually, I got older and realized how irrelevant the Sunset Strip is. Even as I realized it, the hipsters had taken to "discovering" the dive bars and turning them into hotspots. I remember the days when Barney's Beanery was a rock and roll bar and now it's Sunset Strip Junior; The Arsenal was more like The Joker instead of a place with a list and a line.

Sad.

None of that stopped me from joining some friends on a trip to The Roxy on the World Famous Sunset Strip last night. I went, thinking we'd be seeing Metal School (which is faux-washed-up hair band covering a bunch of classic metal songs), but instead found myself upstairs at "The Rox." The Rox is the so-called V.I.P. room above The Roxy, but there was nothing Very Important about it. When we arrived at 9:30, the street outside was teeming with cellphones and hairdos, and luckily we were not forced to wait outside in the depressing mix for very long. In spite of my obvious fashion savviness, I wore a ten-years-too-late western style shirt that a thousand other Urban Outfitters shoppers surely own, and a pseudo-knockoff-vintage tee-shirt from J Crew underneath it. It occured to me as I valet parked my car that my commonness was surely not masked by a 35 dollar daring shirt nor the mass-produced "one of a kind" tee shirt underneath it. I laughed at my own hypocrisy as we thanked the surly doorman who braceletted our arms with wristbands that were the envy of the line of hopefuls outside.

Lined with blue neon and silver, blue and black decor, "The Rox" looks more like a Universal Studios theme bar than a Hollywood Hipster Hangout. I felt like at any moment, costumed actors would come out and narrate the history of The Roxy to me as part of some interactive skit while we waited in line to see the recreation of the World Famous Roxy in its heyday inside a soundstage.

The beers were 6 dollars and the mixed drinks were 9. I expected worse, and found myself oddly comforted by the fact that drink prices have not changed in ten years. I suppose 24 is not so far from 34 in a city of plastic and agelessness. We talked and tried to ignore the fact that none of us quite belonged in the neon-blue setting around us. Inevitably, the conversation turned to the Industry and acting and performing and auditioning and before I knew it, we did fit in. We fit in terribly and accurately to the stereotype of Hollywood; each of us standing there in an outfit much more prepared and thought out than any of us would ever confess, talking about the city we lived in together, but eventually steering the dialogue back to the most popular topic in town: ourselves.

How strange to once wish to fit in and fail, and then finally fit in and lament the implications of that fact. If you ever want to go Hollywood, visit the Strip. It holds the answers to your questions, the heart of your addictions, the escape from your convictions and the death knell for your hopes and aspirations.

City of Dreams. The Sunset Strip is a reminder that some of them end badly or not at all, in spite of the hilarious, kitschy 80's song cell phone ring or the street bought Gucci money clip that only you think is real.

Peek your head in, but don't stay too long. That place will eat you.

Comments

[Sheila]

Ah yes.

I lived a block away from this hell back in the day... I think it's what drove me out.

Where do all the OTHER aging hipsters of LA go on a Monday night? Therapy? Insomnia Cafe? Chillers? (Just kidding)

Makes me wanna put on a little pink back-pack and smoke my American Spirits and talk about how much money I'll make someday.

[julie]

Isn't this also the opening scene for Pretty Woman? No wonder so many people think of the Strip that way.

It's got to be better than walking the streets of Georgetown.

Or maybe the grass is always greener.

[Carrie]

I actually feel badly for all the people who lose their dreams there. Not to mention lack of privacy for celebrities. Sort of makes me wonder if the old time movie studios had it right by keeping their stars under wraps. Not the extremes they went to or the bad treatment of them, but you know what I mean.

Btw, any word on whether you'll be working on Big Brother this season??? ;-)

[Kate]

Great post.

Frighteningly accurate.

My tummy is feeling a little sick right now.

Paying $12 for a glass of house wine while staring at a stunningly gorgeous woman being paid to sleep in a fish tank while I couldn't get a job as a temp bottomed me out on the Strip.

I now wear my San Fernando Valley like a cootie shot in boy/girl day in gym class.

[MIKE]

Fuckin $6 for a brew!!??? Are you kidding me?? In Austin, every night but Saturday is $1 beer night.

I'd be furious if it cost me $50 to get toasted...no wonder there are so many miserable people in LA.

[El]

I've lurked on here for a long time, but I had to come out of the shadows for this entry. It was really nicely written and it makes me never want to visit the sunset strip if I get to that coast again.

I enjoy your site.

[Peggy Archer]

That's exactly why I don't go to the Strip.

I didn't even know "On the Rox" was there anymore. Wasn't that hip a decade ago?

[Wil]

You.

Fucking.

Rule.

Shane.

[Colleen]

Man, I knew there was a reason why I keep checking your blog, like, 10 times a day, hoping for an update. :) (You, Wil & MM are my blog-trifecta)

Very eloquent, Shane.

[naiah]

Fuck. That was so good, I need a goddamn cigarette.

[Carl]

Shane, found a link to your page via Wil's site.
I've just finished reading the full version of your post and all I can say is YES.
What you summed up, is word for word a perfect description of the Strip and all the crap that goes on up there.
Heck, a few years ago, I dated an ex-Hollywood stripper named Sondye, and even she used to tell me stories of the Strip, and when I compare them to my inadventures into that strip of Hell, I can see how much the place never changes.
Its like a creature that feeds you dreams to reel you in, then eats you alive, spitting out whatever is left of you, with your shattered hopes and broken dreams.

You know, I'm gonna add a link to this post on my blog, if that's okay with you? thanks.

[Mynna]

Very well said. Quite a vivid rendering.

i miss having some skill with words, or at least the egocentric delusion of skill i've misplaced or outgrown.

[naiah]

Ok, pithy (but sincere) one-liner delivered, I have more to say.

Most importantly: I really hope that you're working on a book. That's not just blog metafriend talk. If you write it, the publishing will take care of itself.

When I was there, I did just what you suggested--literally, I peeked my head in the door of the Viper Room as I walked the strip one night.

You nailed it. Fucking. Perfectly.

Just the nibble I had, just two hours in one night's walk, tasted just like this.

You're living a fascinating version of reality. Enjoy it, even if you do have to work way too hard planning out your wardrobe. (and write a book while you're at it, if you've any inclination.)

[Ursula Hitler]

I hope it doesn't seem like I'm singling you out unfairly, but I gotta speak up: I am getting really sick of people who live in LA writing this "LA: City of Dreams, City of Nightmares" stuff, where every single person in town seems to be a tragic bimbo or a frustrated screenwriter. I'm sick of hearing Sunset and Melrose and Fairfax described as these cesspools of corrupted ambition, where champagne wishes fizzle and caviar dreams turn rancid and blah blah blah. LA is FUN, for Christ's sake. It's noisy and colorful and FUN. There is pop history under every single foot of this town (the place where you live right now is probably the same place where somebody famous died, or where some old studio used to be, or where some great song was written), and interesting people are everywhere if you bother to look around. You are only looking at one aspect of LA, at the kind of life YOU lead, and making it sound like everybody here is some desperate character trying to break into The Industry. Please stop hanging around with a small circle of superficial people and then going home to write about how terribly superficial LA is. You're just feeding into the same dopey stereotypes the rest of America already believes about us. If you don't get that this is one of the best places to live in the world, maybe it's time for you to think about moving someplace that's more to your liking. (I'm sure you'd find plenty of like-minded LA-bashers up in 'Frisco.) Once you're gone, that's just one less person clogging up the 405, so I'll be able to get to all the fun places that much faster.

[Fraize]

Like many of us, I've followed Wil here. Shane - fantastic writing, man. Inspirational. I really wish I could write like you. Your words flow like my thoughts.

On a stalker note, I checked your IMDB profile and found out you're from Fairfax. Where? I grew up in Burke. Just curious.

[sharfa]

That's some gosh darn good writing there Shane. So, when's the book coming out?

[Karl]

Okay I'm hooked! Good writing, and you're FUNNY! Nuff said.

[Dave Greten]

This strip sounds so awful that I now want to visit it.

[Annie]

don't you love how everyone is trying so hard to be different and independent only to end up looking like the guy right next to you...???

[x]

Love it, Shane. We must have been thinking along parallel lines yesterday. I was musing on a Barfly party for a KISS condom launch where I felt totally out of place -- and then ran into my dentist. Fucking surreal.

I'm gonna link to your post, if you don't mind. Nice blog -- I thank Wil for getting me here.

[shane]

Ursula wrote:

"You're just feeding into the same dopey stereotypes the rest of America already believes about us. If you don't get that this is one of the best places to live in the world, maybe it's time for you to think about moving someplace that's more to your liking. (I'm sure you'd find plenty of like-minded LA-bashers up in 'Frisco.) Once you're gone, that's just one less person clogging up the 405, so I'll be able to get to all the fun places that much faster."

You know Ursula, I generally avoid responding to unkind comments. I'm not sure where your anger comes from, but unlike you, I took the time to read some of your writing instead of making a blanket judgment about you after reading one entry. You seem to spend a lot of time ranting in a similar manner as you have here in the comments on your Live Journal blog, and I noticed that you were proud enough of your scathing comment to post it in your own weblog as a self-congratulatory pat on the back. I love Los Angeles. I've loved it since I moved here from New Hampshire in 1995. However, whether or not you believe it, there is a stereotypical element that lives here and they reinforce the stereotype you seem to loathe so much. I've singled out that particular element for this particular entry. It represents a frame of mind during that writing session. It does not sum up my general feelings of this great city. It is one aspect of LA but it is certainly not the life I lead. The Sunset Strip is a superficial parody of Los Angeles. How can you disagree with that? I don't know many people that spend any time there, just as I don't know many people that hang out at Universal City Walk or The Walk of Fame.

Incidentally, let me quote YOU now.

This from your May 25, 2005 post:

"LOVE IT AND LEAVE IT: Ok, seriously? I'm thinking it might be time to get the hell out of America. Enough with the Jesus freaks. Enough with the SUVs. Enough with W, and W's lackeys, and W's bosses. Enough with Paris Hilton. Enough."

...and this from January 24, 2005:

"Oh well, LA is probably not the best place to settle long-term anyhow. Things are just going to get more crowded and polluted and scummy around here, and somebody WILL drop a bomb on this town eventually. Another terrorist strike is coming, and after New York and D.C. we're the next town with a big X drawn across it."

Hmm. Now that sounds exactly like the dopey stereotypes you've accused me of spewing. In case you are too lazy to actually research the person you are attacking, here is one of the posts that you should read:

http://hollywoodlog.typepad.com/nickerblog/2004/06/malibu.html

Also, I don't think anyone really calls it "Frisco." FYI.

[jerry]

Great post shane!!! Paints an extremely vivid picture of the strip i've never seen. Sellouts! Whether its a cool dive bar that now has a wine list or The Cure releasing "friday i'm in love" we all can relate to money causing people, businesses, icons to be something they are not. Again, Great writing.

[Steve Thorn]

Nicely written, Shane. I love it -- 'wondering if your flannel shirt was intentional or tragic'

[buntz]

OOOOOOOOooo!! Ursula....ZING!!!!

[Jean-Paul Cardier]

This post leaves this reviewer saying "Yes, but you're seeing the surface and declaring it to be the ocean."

Truth time: I live in Los Angeles. I was born in Los Angeles. I have lived here most of my life, adult and child. The Rock 'n Roll Ralphs on Sunset was where I bought my groceries til I was 14. I remember when Gazzari's still existed. My sister currently lives above Franklin near La Brea. I know the area really, really well. And you know what? Sunset is not Los Angeles. Hell, Sunset isn't the Industry. Not anymore.

Rents are too high on the Westside of LA, so most struggling artists move to the Valley. Or decide to live in a rat infested hovel. The only Studio that still exists in Hollywood is Paramount on Gower, and who knows for how long. Warner Bros. is in Burbank, as is ABC/Disney. Sony is in Culver City, Dreamworks is in Glendale. "Hollywood" has dispersed.

And Hollywood isn't LA either. Believe it or not for the out of towners, most Angeleno's do not make their living in the Industry. We are carpenters, shoe salesman, janitors, lawyers, printers and locksmiths. There are many parts of Los Angeles that have never been filmed, usually because it's too mundane.

But LA is more than Sunset or Hollywood. It's Downtown, with gigantic buildings and shoe shops more than 60 years old. It's East LA, with Spanish stations blaring from nearby cars. It's Santa Monica, with beautiful rich people jogging on cliffside parks. It is the Valley, damn it is the Valley. The Valley is the stepchild that gets good grades but none of the credit. So many of us poor people have moved to the Valley it isn't funny. We're the butt of many an L.A. joke, but the beautiful Westside couldn't exist without us.

This doesn't even touch on Southbay, Long Beach, Pasadena, or Palmdale. I could speak about Montrose, Silverlake, Koreatown, Culver City and I still couldn't show more than a sliver, a merest sliver of the diversity of community available to us in Los Angeles. Los Angeles isn't a superficial place.

The Industry can be superficial. Mainly because so much importance and money is placed on artifice and appearance. But only at the top. At the bottom people slog for their chance. Those folks can't afford the superficial.

If you find yourself in a shallow place filled with shallow people, don't make the mistake of thinking that is Los Angeles. It's a part of it, true. But I would say that most cities have their superficial segments. We're just known for it.

The thing to remember is that L.A. is neither paradise nor purgatory. It's a nice place, a fun place. It has great weather. It also has people bleeding at all hours of the clock.

I may have to leave here someday, but it will be with a heavy heart. It's my home, and I will always love it.

[Carl]

I have to agree with Shane about calling Ursula on her comment. Very pretentious of her, to be honest.
And as for her comment about how America sees Hollywood, well I can say, having worked in Hollywood, especially on Hollywood Boulevard, for four years, American people don't hate Hollywood, they still believe its the answer to their dreams, hence more and more hopefuls still keep coming from their hometowns, by the car-load, in search of fame and fortune. And they still adore the celebrities that get stuffed down your throat by the media.

And yes, LA can be fun, for a short period of time, but that fun dries up when you can't find work, and what work there is, is usually below minimum wage and taken by illegal immigrants. But I digress.
LA has a superficial charm that wears off just like the feeling you have when you wake from a dream, to find that it wasn't real.
And for a parting shot, your comment, which Shane qouted about telling Shane to get out of LA, so you can get to "fun" places faster. Well, thats the kind of quote I'd expect to hear from a shallow minded airhead from the valley, who's mommy and daddy buy her every spoil she wants; a pure Paris Hilton wannabe.

But in all, good reply Shane.

[claire]

Hey Shane-

Enjoyed the post. Makes me think of "Still in Hollywood" by Concrete Blonde as well as "Sunny, 72," the perpetual forecast in LA Story which was my assumption about LA when I first moved there.

[Animeraider]

Fascinating take on Hollywood and its so-called "scene". There wasn't a scene when the "scene" was called a "scene"...

Ug. That was a terrible sentance to write.

I was part of that scene in the 1980s. I am proud to have played a part of one of the most famous club stories out there, and remember fondly the Roxy, the Whiskey, F.M. Station (okay, North Hollywood but still), Madame Wongs, and Hop Singh's.

We were soooo cool. We were going places. We shopped on Melrose and dressed in black. We were the "names" that got "dropped".

And you haven't heard of me. Now THAT'S a scene.

Ego aside, Frisco has been much better to me.

[Will Campbell]

Aw hell... the two shirts I just got on impulse a couple weeks ago on a pass through Men's Wearhouse for a new suit? Nothing less than "the classic (albeit ten years too late) 'Swingers' style party shirts."

I didn't even realize it until now. While reading your most awesome post and cracking up at your most hilarious vblogs. And I'm fucking wearing one today. Right now.

Pathetic. Sigh.

[Will Campbell]

Aw hell... the two shirts I just got on impulse a couple weeks ago on a pass through Men's Wearhouse for a new suit? Nothing less than "the classic (albeit ten years too late) 'Swingers' style party shirts."

I didn't even realize it until now. While reading your most awesome post and cracking up at your most hilarious vblogs. And I'm fucking wearing one today. Right now.

Pathetic. Sigh.

[Ursula Hitler]

Well, I DID start off by saying that I hoped I wasn't singling you out unfairly. I've had a raging, hyperbolic rant stuck at the back of my throat for a long time about all the LA-bashing that local bloggers do, and when I read your entry it finally jogged that rant loose. I posted it on my own journal not as a self-congratulatory thing, but because the subject was something I'd been meaning to address forever. I linked to your essay so people would have an example of the kind of thing I was pissed about (and I cited Pamie.com as a general backup example, although I've had plenty of nice things to say about her in the past).

The stuff you cited from my journal as being anti-LA was actually anti-AMERICAN. There's a difference between being so fed up with W and the red states that you're contemplating fleeing the country, and being fed up with LA itself. (Yes, I called LA "scummy." It IS scummy. But I love it for all its scumminess.) Much as we'd love to buy a home here, I'm not sure it's safe long-term: if there are going to be any more terrorist attacks, I think LA is a very likely target. Besides, it's too expensive. The point is that we WANT to stay in LA, but I'm not sure if we'll be able to. If we do ever have to leave, I'll be miserable about it.

I'd agree that some LA people can live up to the stereotypes, but they are a minority. And it isn't that I hate the bimbos and frustrated screenwriters... far from it! Mostly I find them rather amusing. But people focus on those types so much, and try to depict LA as a horrible town based on those stereotypes.

I visit the Sunset Strip often, and I don't find it depressing the way you do. For me, it's just a fun, goofy place to go. Maybe that's because we're looking for different things: I grew up in Southern CA, and I approach LA without the expectations that somebody might bring if they'd grown up elsewhere. The hookers and the tourists and the homeless people have always been there, I never had any illusions to shatter.

I was trying to comment on a TYPE of writing about LA, which I felt that entry fell into. I didn't think the entry itself was poorly written, and I didn't think you were a big asshole or anything. Anyhow, I genuinely apologize if my comments came across as scathing. It seems I hurt your feelings, so it's commendable that you didn't get too nasty in response.

Jean-Paul more eloquently expressed what I was trying to say. And Carl is a dumbass. Thank you and goodnight.

[Carol]

Love the post Shane, but the love the back and forth between Ms./Mr. Hitler and yourself even more - I'm laughing my ass off right now.

[Carl]

I'm a dumbass?
Well, nice to know that all my years in college and University in England went to good use.
You know, I won't stoop low to call someone a dumbass, because I know people have a right to an opinion.
But I seem to see that LA people just love to critise others, but go apeshit when anyone says anything bad against their Holist of temples, Hollywood.

You know what, Ursula, you can live in your fantasyworld of LA LA Land, and you can be surrounded by your little world.
Just don't take a holiday in reality, you may not like it. ;)

[Carl]

Shane, your a great writer and I look forward to future posts.
I apologise for the spat with Ursula, but sometimes people can say things that need questioning.
But, I apoligse to the nice people in LA. Its a nice town, just a shame that Hollywood brings it down.
And to those who get irate when Hollyweird gets ridiculed. Well the *town* deserves it. It is in serious need of a reality check.

[Ursula Hitler]

Carl: You call me a "shallow minded airhead from the valley" and compare me to Paris freakin' Hilton. How is that any better than calling somebody a dumbass? You threw the first mud pie, junior.

[RuKsaK]

That is some seriously shit hot writing - I got more from reading that from half the novels I've read this year.

[Peggy Archer]

Just in case this helps, I got flamed (because of a misinterpretation) on my blog (just about the same time as this) for having the unmitigated gall to type that the lower the budget, the worse the working conditions were for crew.

[Stu Mark]

Shane, I'm a big fan of your writing and I am going to ask a question that could be seen as dickish but is not intended that way. Ok? Here comes the question: Why didn't you have to go to the back of the line and wait with the others who were at The Roxy? Are clubs really set up to look for "important" people? I mean, I'm from the South Bay and I'm a geek, so I don't know shit about such things. Is it really like I see in the movies, where famous people pull up and walk past all the regular people? If so, I'm surprised that you would do that, that you wouldn't take a stand against such an unfairness. I'm not giving you shit here, honest, I have genuine respect for you as you seem like a pretty fair-minded guy. And maybe I misread your post. If so, my apologies.

[shane]

Stu-

Interesting question. The answer would depend on who you talk to and how famous the person trying to get in is. I'm flattered that you think I have any sort of cache whatsoever, but as of yet, mid-range traffic bloggers don't get much special attention at the doors of hotspots. On the other hand, big superstars surely get in wherever they like, and that's just the way it's always been.

For nerds like me, some of the best, less rockstar ways to avoid the line are as follows:

a) show up with friends who know the people there.

b) make a reservation and get on the list.

c) be a hot chick with your tits mostly out.

For me in this case, it was an a/b combo.

(although I appreciated the scenery of those attempting "c.")

That said, if I know someone at the door or I can dodge a line by some other means, I'm always game. Usually however, I find myself either deep in the heart of the line or leaving for a place with no line and a jukebox that has some "Wanted Dead or Alive" and some "Skynrd."

[Stu Mark]

First off, cool of you to respond. It's interesting/exceptionally cool to have this sort of interaction with a writer that I enjoy reading. Most of the time good writers become too cool for school and become untouchable. You're an exceptional writer (and that's not just my opinion, you ask anybody that reads this blog and they'll tell you, you have mad skills) and yet you are still a regular guy. You're approachable, you're open-minded, you're cool to criticism. I think that's pretty excellent.

Second, I understand the A/B combo and, having lived in Manhattan Beach, understand the enjoyment of option C.

Third, I'm more a Springsteen than a Bon Jovi.

[Tyler A.]

I lived for a bit at Sunset and Fuller; right above a Russian restaurant that I’m sure was a front for something. I watched Pimps chase their Ho’s, I watched a guy get shot in the Denny’s parking lot from my window and enjoyed at least one helicopter chase every night. I even turned 21 in those bars that you wrote about. There were so many things I loved and so many things I hated about that place. I’ve never read a piece that summed it up with such clarity. That was great.

[Tracie]

I'll stay in Florida, then, thanks.

[Jill]

I don't believe it's anything different than anyone aging from 25 on goes through anywhere. Thinking about going out to a club. The fact that I live in New York might affect that. Seeing the body fade, I know, but the beginnings of it. Aging, uggh! How depressing. Not understanding anymore why it was all so exciting, why Night Life seemed to have so much promise. You've touched on something universal perhaps these thoughts come to women earlier.

[carol stanley]

I lived in La during the fifties...and itwas a great place to live. I could walk home from a friend's house at 1AM...and never worry..Sunset strip was the place for after the date...So I have wonderful memories..SO why revisit and be disappointed. carol stanley www.carolstanley1.com author "For Kids 59.99 and Over"

[damien o mallley]

I'm from Ireland, have lived in Dublin (5 yrs) London (3yrs) New York City (4yrs) and San Diego (7 yrs). I've made friends with San Diegans who are from all over the US and we go to LA all the time to parties, art events etc. LA is by far the most creative and fascinating city I've ever been to (and NYC is a lot of bloody fun). In my view the whole appeal IS the fakeness. Its like the way all gamblers secretly long to lose. Thats how I love LA. The conundrum is that behind each yearning, striving desire to be famous is often a cold, steely hardened diamond of ambition. Whether you've made it or not, all Angelinos share the same ragged moth wings that flies them again and again to that irresistable white-hot nexus of desire - the altar of self-love. Celebrate the fake - its what makes everything real...